


I can't believe it's not butter!

by DorianWilde



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Airplane, Antlers, Blood, Dreams, Gen, Humor, Kanima, M/M, Not sure if that is a proper tag, Subconscious, Swearing, crack!fic, description of someone bleeding, sheriff!POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorianWilde/pseuds/DorianWilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm so tired of this muddafuckin' Stiles on this muddafuckin' plane!" Jackson roared, throwing his maracas at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I can't believe it's not butter!

**Author's Note:**

> Betad by my darling Bengsi

“We're on a plane!” Stiles beamed, practically bouncing in his seat. The Sheriff rubbed his eyes tiredly, wondering how he'd ended up sitting behind his hyperactive son.

 

“Oh my god, I love planes! They like, fly and stuff!” Scott said excitedly.

 

The Sheriff did his best to ignore the two hyperactive puppies. Instead he turned to Lydia sitting next to him, painting her lips purple. “I can't wear red lipstick anymore, so awkward to match Derek's eyes, you know?”

 

“Of course,” the Sheriff agreed, looking to his right. Erika smiled at him, lips red.

 

“I don't mind matching him,” she grinned, showing off a mouth full of sharp teeth. She turned her head, making a wound from a knife or possibly a claw open up, blood gushing out. “See, it's pretty.”

 

“Wieeeee,” Stiles squealed, cart-wheeling up and down the aisle wearing a toga that miraculously covered everything.

 

“I want cake!” Derek Hale glared at the Sheriff. “Why'd you eat it?” he roared.

 

“I didn't-” The Sheriff tried not to cower before the red, inhuman eyes. “I-” He realized he held a piece of half-eaten strawberry cake in his hands, the whipped cream having dripped onto his pink leather pants.

 

“Everyone here is so lame,” Isaac drawled, wearing only a pair of black shorts and sunglasses as he shuffled down the aisle. He bowed down, goring Stiles in the stomach with his antlers.

 

“Duuuuuude!” Stiles complained, somersaulting backwards, landing on his feet. Scott held up a scoreboard, giving him ten points.

 

“I can't believe we're not going to Ibiza,” Erica complained. She was bleeding all over the Sheriff who was honestly freaking out a bit.

 

“I can't believe it's not butter,” Scott said, having turned around, kneeling in his seat, looking down at them from behind the backrest.

 

“I know, right?” Lydia agreed, using a gun to water the giant root she was sitting on.

 

“But what is it?” Derek whispered, red eyes almost popping out of their sockets as he leaned over from the other side of the aisle.

 

“Kanima-fat.” Boyd towered over them, the front of his shirt torn open, revealing his gutted stomach, intestines on their way out. “YOLO,” he said, taking a bite of the sandwich in his hand, covered in a thick layer of, eh, kanima-fat?

 

“Unless you're me,” Peter said with a grin, toasting them with his champagne glass, eyes shining un-naturally blue.

 

“I can't believe Stiles is preggers,” Isaac told them, twirling one of his donkey-ears around his fingers.

 

“Imma be a godfather!” Scott started jumping up and down in his seat. “Ickle baby cubs!”

 

“No way, I'll be the cub's godmother! You can be like a cousin or something!” Cora growled at Scott, who answered by pulling her fluffy tail.

 

“Oh my god, like, mind you own business,” Stiles complained, straddling Derek who had both his hands on Stiles' huge stomach.

 

“We'll name them all Wolfgang,” he said.

 

“I see, a bad moon rising!” Scott sang, the rest of the … pack? acting as beat-boxes and choir.

 

“Solo!” Stiles cheered, dancing 'Staying alive' like his life depended on it. Pun not intended.

 

A giant lizard guy appeared.

 

“Jackson, aren't you finding yourself in a temple in England above the clouds where the Druids live?” Lydia gasped. Erika gurgled, making more blood spurt onto the bewildered Sheriff.

 

“I'm so tired of this muddafuckin' Stiles on this muddafuckin' plane!” Jackson roared, throwing his maracas at him.

 

-'-'-

 

Sheriff Stilinski sat up with a gasp.

 

 _What the fuck?_ He scratched his neck, untangling himself from the covers. Stiles had, these last few days, given him an even more detailed explanation of the supernatural events of the past years. Even going so far as showing him photos and having the wolves, well, 'wolf out' in front of him.

 

Still. Weird.

 

Not really awake yet, he dragged himself downstairs, _not_ looking forward to his nightshift in a few hours. Hearing the TV, he took a detour into the living room, deciding coffee could wait a few minutes. His son, thankfully un-pregnant, was sitting stiffly on the couch with eyes glued to his laptop screen, TV ignored. The Sheriff cleared his throat, making Stiles startle.

  
“Oh, hi dad. You're up!” Stiles was wearing The Face. The face that made the Sheriff wish he'd stayed in bed. “I need to tell you something...” Stiles played with a rip in his jeans, not looking at him, leg bouncing.

 

“You're not pregnant with yours and Derek Hale's lovechild, are you?” Because this was his life now, where this sentence might actually make sense for all he knew.

 

“What? _No_! Oh my god, how can you even- I mean, I'm a _guy_ for god's sake!” Stiles spluttered. “And _Derek's_? I-”

 

“Uh-huh,” the Sheriff interrupted, sitting down next to him. “Spit it out.”

 

Stiles let out a breath, looking like he was steeling himself. “SoImighthavescratchedyourcar,” he said in a rush. The Sheriff took a few moments to translate what had been said. The fact that he was actually relieved was depressing in itself.

 

He patted Stiles' knee, getting up again to get himself some coffee. “You're grounded.”

 

“Oh come _on_ -”

 

“-and we're buying real butter.”

 

 _Kanima-fat. God._ He really needed to deal with his subconscious.

 

-'-'-

Feel free to stalk me on [tumblr](http://wilderambles.tumblr.com/)


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